Fix Me
by TheLastShadow
Summary: We could be heroes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters.

**A/N:** I was sucked into a new fandom. It's been happening a lot lately and I only have myself to blame. I'm hoping this will give me the needed boost to continue writing my other stuff.

/groans

un-beta'd

* * *

_Loading..._

_Systems Online._

_Directive?_

_..._

Marcus feels hard objects pressing against him from all sides. He has little room to move and frowns when he realizes his leg is wedged between two boulders. It takes a lot of effort and energy to free his leg with only one arm. He claws his way out of the rubble and crawls away from the fallen debris to sit against a wall away from the damage.

He feels drained. The super strength he'd once flaunted over the others is gone.

The sparking wires on his arm break his thoughts and he runs a full diagnostic scan. He reads through the report quickly noting the majority of his functions are marked "OFFLINE" and "CRITICAL" in red blinking letters while a few say "AT RISK" in orange.

There's little he can do to repair himself in a broken down lab. There's also a chance Donald Davenport will return with the others to dig for information concerning his creator. He stands deciding his best solution is to find a new hideout and a way to fix the more noticeable injuries. Digging through the wreckage he finds several pieces of cord to make a temporary sling to keep his arm out of the way. After another search he finds pieces of wire to tie a few metal pieces that might be useful around his torso.

Marcus hugs the wall as a way to help him move around. He can't even will himself to feel embarrassment when he has to creep over and under objects blocking his way.

His right arm is useless, his right eye can barely distinguish the shapes around him, and his right leg gives him a horrible limp but he continues because he won't let himself die underground, alone and forgotten.

It's dark by the time he reaches the outside world. There's a strange rattle coming from his chest and a clicking noise from his neck when he turns his head but he ignores it. It isn't until now that he realizes there's no pain. A quick look at the diagnostic report informs him most of his pain receptors are compromised.

He moves forward to keep as much distance between himself and Mission Creek. The map grid is still fuzzy and spins as if not sure which direction is North. The dent behind his head can only mean his Wi-fi would be unavailable to double check his location.

He walks as fast as his limbs allow him. He's sighs in relief when he enters the forest surrounding the town. He spends the rest of the day continuing his journey and only stops when it becomes nightfall. He sits underneath a bowed tree hoping the large branches will shield him from anyone wandering this far in the dark.

He runs his working hand over the immobile arm inspecting the wires and tubes wrapped around the metal skeleton. The gears in his elbow are crushed and burnt wires poke out of the protective case they were bundled in. Several hoses are torn allowing a red liquid resembling blood to sluggishly drip out. When he feels the back of his shoulder he realizes something in that area must have broken down, too. He moves on, without someones help he has no way to fix something he can't see or reach.

He bends forward pulling up his torn jeans and sees it immediately. The synthetic skin is torn and the metal knee sticking out is twisted and bent from the boulders that landed on him. Marcus sighs, knowing there's no quick fix for that either. He unties the wires around his chest to release the few pieces of metal he salvaged to create a crude splint for his knee. He doesn't want to chance adding too much weight and breaking the rest of his leg off.

He slides his hand under his shirt feeling the weight of the broken arm as he inspects his torso. The ribs on his right are caved in and the flesh surrounding the area feels burnt. He's surprised he's still mobile after all the damage he's received.

As if afraid he touches his face lightly feeling the jagged tears in his skin from his right temple down to his neck. He probably looks like something out of a horror movie. He blinks in surprise when he feels his right ear is missing but is glad he hasn't lost his hearing.

His best option is to go into sleep mode to cool down and start traveling again in a few hours.

_Entering Power Save Mode..._

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters. If there's a town by the same name as Misty Park in California then it's only a coincidence.

**A/N:** So far I'm thinking this might be no more than 10 chapters. I hope. Also, the following chapters will start getting longer. The first two were short to kind of move everything a little quicker.

un-beta'd

* * *

Loki accepts most of the blame for many things in his life now.

Before he fell he would have gladly foisted all the blame on to his parents and brother so that he would be free of all the bad decisions in his life. However, something in the fall had made his mind clear of every jealous and hate filled thought.

When he lands, _crashes_, on Midgard he's surrounded by trees. He stays in his crater mulling over the recent events. He thought his fate would lead to his death but instead he lives.

He spends the following days gathering magic to heal himself. It's a long and lonely time for him. At one point his desperation grows enough for him to call for Heimdall. After no reply by way of Bifrost his heart begins to ache.

Time passes and even when he's healthy enough to stand on his own there is no reply. Surely, if he found passages to Midgard without the use of the Bifrost then Odin would've sent for him.

_Right?_

Loki would gladly return in shackles if it means he would be rid of the guilt harboring within him. The hours stretch into days and days stretch into weeks but there is only silence to his cries begging for forgiveness.

The small part of him still rolling in anger slowly becomes larger. It whispers awful thoughts, needling him until he's shouting profanities at the sky.

But he waits.

More time passes but after spending the day under a powerful rain storm he becomes desperate again. With the water rising around him he attempts scrying home. It works and the god is so glad to see the halls of his home he almost misses one wrong detail.

Loki searches for his mother, father, and brother and worries when all he sees are angry or disappointed faces. And then he hears a voice.

"No," he whispers in fear.

He moves towards the speaker and sees himself. Something wearing his face grins menacingly at Odin. It's too much. Loki listens to his doppelgängers trial and the destruction it caused.

His mind spins, "What is this sorcery?"

He loses hold and yells in anger, at the unfairness of everything.

After leaving what would've been his tomb had he been a weaker, he walks. The town he stumbles into is small, smaller than what he's used to. There are no spiral towers or gold painted buildings. There is no Rainbow Bridge to welcome him.

He creates an illusion to hide his Asgardian clothes to blend in before he makes his way down a sidewalk. He clamps down on his magic and wills himself to look harmless.

This is how he starts his new life. He let's go of everything and anything tying him to the destructive part of his past and it's freeing. This is where he strives to live a humble life as a nobody. If a few mortals suffer at his hands to sate his anger when his thoughts return to his old life it doesn't bother him.

In Misty Park he carves something for himself. He chooses a name that will be his forever until his dying breath because _Loki_ is dead.

He's welcomed by the residents and gains sympathy and a job after recounting a heavily edited version of his life. Somehow he works himself into the lives of the humans and eventually feels that this is his place.

Here he's known as the smiling blond working part-time in a small café. He rents a two bedroom trailer with a coworker at the edge of town near the forest. He buys donuts from his neighbors bakery for the children waiting at the bus stop on his road every Friday morning. He takes cooking lessons twice a week and goes on runs every Sunday afternoon with his roommate. He's a model citizen and no one ever thinks to accuse him of the odd deaths that began since his arrival almost a decade ago. He believes he'll live this quiet empty life until he fades into nothing.

When he comes across a boy in an alley he knows he's wrong.

* * *

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters.

unbeta'd

* * *

It takes Marcus several days of traveling before he comes across a town in a valley surrounded by mountains. The limp is more noticeable now after falling several times but it doesn't stop him from trying to move faster. The streets and sidewalks are still empty this early and he has enough time to huddle in an alley between two dumpsters. He tries to sit still and let his circuits cool down after traveling for almost a week nonstop. When he spots a puddle nearby his curiosity is enough to have him crawling towards it just so he can finally see his damaged face.

Marcus frowns when he sees silver glint back at him in the dirty water. His right eye looks dim and cracked but it's something he'll have to live with until he can find someone to repair him.

He's in the process of gathering himself off the ground to hide until nightfall when he feels a presence behind him. The program for basic emotions malfunctions so his face stays blank. His working eye narrows, taking in as much information as possible with his low energy. The man appears as "Low to No Threat" on his scan but in a blink it reads "WARNING: PROCEED WITH CAUTION... THREAT LEVEL HIGH".

He takes a step back to place more distance between them and reroutes more energy to his legs for when he needs to run. He feels himself stiffen and something _pulls_ him forward. His right leg drags behind him while his other scrapes the ground trying to keep him in place. The man is taller up close and his eyes are a sharp, vibrant green. Marcus' neck clicks when he looks up at the man towering over him. The man's skin looks pale and gaunt against the dark clothes he wears.

"What are you?" the man whispers.

There's an accent in the man's voice but it's difficult to place while so many programs are offline. Marcus responds, voice full of static, "I should ask you the same thing."

The stranger walks around him, inspecting him, before coming to face him again. Marcus wonders if the man is bionic like Adam, Bree, and Chase.

"You're not human."

The android arches an eyebrow, "Really? What gave it away?"

'At least my program for sarcasm is still intact', he thinks.

"Hmm," the man smirks, "Now, the real question is what shall I do with you?"

Marcus stays silent and stares back defiantly. He won't show anything resembling fear but the last thing he wants is to be dismantled after fighting so hard to survive. The man returns the steady gaze and blinks when his black apron flaps loudly due to a slight breeze.

The man grins, "Well, follow me."

Whatever held Marcus releases him and he stumbles for a moment when he adds too much weight to the injured knee. Having no other option he follows the man. If the stranger is a high threat then there's no chance he'll escape. The man waits for him farther down the alley holding a black door open. Marcus' eye takes a moment to adjust in the low lit hallway once he enters the building. When the door closes the first thing he notices are the red walls and scuffed checkered floor. He freezes when the door behind him clicks as a lock slides into place.

"Now, now. Let's not be irrational," the man smiles, "The last thing I want on my record is leaving this business unsecured from all the riffraff prowling the streets."

The man smiles easily and guides him away from the door. Loud laughter from down the hall makes the androids chest tighten. He stops causing the man beside him to stop, too.

"Ah, yes, it's too soon for others to see you in your current situation."

Marcus doesn't even blink as he's herded into a small office and pushed into a rickety metal chair. From the corner of his eye he sees the man turn his back to rummage through shelves. He feels a little better not being able to see the eerie green eyes anymore.

Marcus turns away to memorize his surroundings quickly. The wooden office furniture is uneven and mismatched, ugly even, with chips and dents everywhere. The only bookcase located by the door is brimming with binders and books. The cluttered desk is a disaster of papers, food wrappers, and somewhere underneath the mess he spots the white spine of a book. He continues his observation behind the desk seeing the man opening and closing several cardboard boxes packed on the shelves. His eyes wander to the plain white walls and clinking ceiling fan before the man starts speaking.

"Let's start with something simple, yes? My name is Thomas but everyone calls me Tom. What is your name?"

The android whispers, "Marcus."

"Marcus...?"

Tom draws out the 's' in his name hinting for him to continue.

"Marcus."

"Well, Marcus," Tom laughs lightly, "you are an interesting fellow even in silence. Did your maker do this?"

When there's no reply the man looks over his shoulder and sees the boy's left hand tighten and jaw clench.

"Hmm," he frowns, "let's have a look."

Tom cuts the wires and cords that Marcus used for his knee splint and arm sling. He turns the arm with the exposed metal in curiosity, bending the joints and fingering the torn wires. Slowly, the man covers the areas with the most damaged hardware with non-stick pads before unrolling a cohesive bandage around the androids fingers, wrist, and elbow. Marcus raises an eyebrow when the man presents him with an actual arm sling and bends his head to have it slipped over his neck.

"We have a lot of _accidents_ here so we're always prepared."

The android waits patiently for the man to place his arm into the sling and eyes the thumb slip.

"There's nothing I can do for your eye. Your best option would be to cover it completely to avoid unwanted questions."

Marcus only nods.

A long thick pad covers the cut running down his face and a smaller one blankets the ruined eye before it's taped in place. When the man moves on to take a look at his knee Marcus reroutes any remaining energy from the ruined or burnt out wires to other parts of his body to avoid unwanted sparks setting the bandages on fire.

"Done."

The android sees the flexible knee splint and pats the bandage on his ribs gingerly.

Marcus frowns, "Why are you helping me?"

"I'm curious by nature," the blond stands to put away the remaining unused items, "and it looks like you could use a friend."

"Don't need any," huffs the boy.

"Believe me when I say having friends isn't such a terrible thing. Besides where will you go? Do you even have a home?"

Thankfully his personality glitches before he can answer and it easier to sound uncaring about his future.

"Doesn't matter. I won't last long in this condition anyway."

A shiver passes through Marcus as his limbs begin to lock.

_Warning: Energy Level Low. Recharge Immediately._

_System Shutdown Eminent..._

"Well, it's a good thing you met me then."

_7... 6... 5..._

"Welcome to Misty Park."

_1..._

**::O:O:O::**

Trying to smuggle a body into the back seat of a car in broad daylight is a lot more difficult than Tom thought it would be. He struggles with the door and keys trying not to drop Marcus in the process.

He barely succeeds.

It's been so long since he's even thought of using magic that afterward he feels foolish for not using it to cloak them. Earlier he had only used it because the metal body had reminded him of the Destroyer and his magic had snapped on instinct. Since his arrival on Earth he's preferred using a more 'hands on approach' when dealing with human prey to avoid leaving magic residue. He doesn't risk being found by Asgard should the gods ever cross the Midgard of this universe. He broke away from Loki and would sooner die than be absorbed into his other half from the Nine Realms.

On his way back into the building he wrings his hands opting to look worried and maybe even a bit tired for this to work. He makes his way to the front of the café spying his boss laughing loudly. She's still laughing when he sits on the stool next to her waiting patiently for her to settle down. Her gray curls bounce around her round face and Tom can't help but smile at her. She doesn't even notice him until she's pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket from her lavender dress.

"Oh, Tom! You just missed the best joke!" She places a purple nailed hand on his wrist, still grinning, "Jimmy, sweetie, tell him!"

Jimmy just leans against the register and nods in Tom's direction. His bushy eyebrows and thick beard give him the impression that he's frowning. Tom's heard the people around town joke about his likeness to grumpy cat which doesn't amuse Jim.

"Oh, you party pooper."

Tom nods a hello to Jimmy before speaking, "Forgive me, Evelyn, but something just came up and I'll have to step out for a bit."

"Are you alright?" Evelyn asks, panic creeping into her voice, "Are you sick? Do you need to lie down? I knew you were getting too thin!"

"No, no, I'm well. It's just-," he bites his lip and feigns sadness, "It's a family problem. I just got a call and..."

Jimmy straightens immediately at the implication. Evelyn looks shocked and nods, "Y-yes, of course, take all the time you need dear. Call me tomorrow if you can."

"Thank you, Ev."

He gives her a peck on the cheek and heads out the door yelling, "I'll see you at home Jim!"

Tom doesn't drop the act until his work place is out of sight. It's almost a half hour drive from the main part of town to his home due to the farm land in the valley but it's enough for him to start forming a plan.

He often looks at Marcus in the back seat feeling uncomfortable at the boys stillness. The left eye is still open but now it's black instead of blue.

"What to do?" Tom drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulls into the driveway. "What are you, Marcus?"

He startles when a robotic voice chirps, **_"System Marcus is locked. Recharge immediately."_**

Tom rolls his eyes and moves to pick up the limp body. He winces when he accidentally bumps Marcus' head more than once. He hopes it won't make the boy's condition worse. After dumping Marcus on the ratty green couch in the living room the blond man takes off to search for clothes. If Jimmy comes home early he'll be suspicious of a bandaged, unconscious boy wearing dirty, torn clothes. During the search the robotic voice repeats the same two sentences over and over to the point where it becomes annoying.

**_"System Marcus is-"_**

"I heard you the first fifteen times! Be silent!"

**_"-immediately."_**

It takes almost an hour but Marcus is finally changed into Tom's clothes. The blond man feels annoyed because the voice won't shut up.

**_"System Mar-"_**

He plugs his ears hoping to drown out the voice. He'd given up insulting it after the first fifteen minutes. The voice stops and he uses this chance to lift the boy off the couch and move him to his bed.

"Now if I needed to recharge how would it work? Maybe a cable or port of some kind?"

Tom hums thoughtfully before his eyes widen and he shakes his head in horror at Marcus.

"By the Tree, if it's _there_...," he sneers, "your maker will regret making me do this."

After a few seconds of uneasiness Tom decides to move the functional hand aside but a whirring sound makes him drop it. He stares in fascination when the wrist expands causing the hand to bend back unnaturally to reveal blinking circuits and three metal prongs.

**_"Adapter one is operational. Adapter two currently offline."_**

"Oh, thank Odin's beard it's in your hand."

In the end he has to rearrange some of the bedroom furniture to plug Marcus into a wall outlet. The left eye glows a steady red before eventually turning orange. The voice lets out a new stream of sentences and Tom sighs.

**_"Recharge in progress. Do not unplug during this process."_**

**::O:O:O::**

_Loading..._

_Systems Online._

_..._

Marcus wakes to a stream of moonlight hitting his face. He tries to roll away from the light but his bent arm stops him. He pulls the arm locked in the outlet he's plugged into but can't free himself. He decides to wait until his strength returns before attempting to free himself. He leans up against the wall closest to him, turning his head to see better with the uncovered eye. Blurry objects surround him in the dark room but it's difficult to focus when he feels groggy and in pain. A burst of light overhead takes him by surprise making him flinch back so hard his head smacks the wall.

'Pain receptors work again,' he thinks bitterly.

"Forgive me, I should have used the dimmer," the man, Tom, motions towards the outlet, "Do you need some help with that?"

Marcus' tongue feels heavy and his head lolls to the side when he tries to tell the man to fuck off.

"Ah, there we go," the blond disconnects him. Tom stares at the hand watching as it twists and closes with a click before letting go.

"So..."

Marcus glares only for the man to smile.

"And here I thought you were incapable of mimicking emotions," Tom laughs when the blue eye turns a sickly green, "Calm down. Here, let's get you up."

"Where...?"

"Welcome to my home," at the confused look he continues, "I wasn't about to leave you in the alley."

Marcus looks away because, yeah, he figured that would've been Tom's first option. Douglas and his cousin/siblings left him behind without a second thought, so why wouldn't he?

"My roommate will be home soon. Now, just follow my lead and we'll be fine."

Tom's eyes widen with excitement when a door opens and closes from somewhere in the house.

"This is it! Showtime!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters except the OC's.

**A/N: **Actually my version of Loki and Marcus would be terrifying as heroes.

**Warning: Dissection, Torture, and Violence**

unbeta'd

* * *

It's not much of a show.

The roommate, _Jim_, barely acknowledges Marcus and accepts he's Tom's nephew. Marcus can tell it irritates Tom regardless of the smile. It's too sharp and it feels dangerous.

The long look Marcus receives from the roommate just before he locks himself in his room means something. He ignores it and focuses on Tom instead. The story he's concocted is flimsy but he doesn't nitpick.

_An orphaned nephew coming to live with his estranged uncle after a horrific accident claimed his parents. No one else would take him._

Lies, lies, lies... and partially true.

He was never wanted.

Marcus' life is brimming with lies and it makes him angry. He feels destructive but instead he huddles away in the forest or Tom's room to get away from prying eyes. The ache of loneliness twists his insides but he shoves it away. He curls in on himself trying his best to mute the lingering feelings of hurt and betrayal left over from his life with Douglas. He thinks it would be different if he wasn't helped. He wouldn't feel the constant gnaw of _wanting_ in his processor if Tom wasn't nice or if the neighbors were less sympathetic.

The weeks turn into a month and by then Marcus is on edge. He keeps smothering his emotions because he'll be abandoned once the newness of what he is passes. He'll be left to die but at least he'll be free.

He doesn't need his maker.

He doesn't need Thomas.

He doesn't need _anyone_.

**::O:O:O::**

The days are strange as they pass without incident.

No espionage, no training, nothing.

It makes Marcus feel off balance but he makes due. He tries to bring some order into his life. He tries to set a routine to follow but it's difficult. Tom, for all his eccentricities, annoys him with his curious questions and gentle words. This only makes him strengthen his barriers should the man decide to turn on him.

He does his best to avoid the roommate's eye in the small home. Jim has only spoken to him a handful of times but the fear of him knowing _something_ unsettles him. What if he finds out about Tom, too? Tom would likely kill them both if whatever he's hiding is revealed. He shudders and tries not to dwell on those thoughts. Instead he heads for the forest in hopes that a long walk will help settle him down.

It's almost nightfall when he stumbles onto a bomb shelter while wandering in a more secluded area. He does his best to search the area for any threats before moving closer. The concrete stairs leading down the side of the small hill makes him pause. He's too far to be heard if someone attacks him and the vegetation lining the stairs and opening are too thick if he were to fall and injure himself. No one would see him if they walked by.

Ignoring that pin prick feeling of danger he continues.

Carefully, he walks down the steps, avoiding the large cracks covered in moss until he reaches the rusted metal door. It swings inward without any resistance but he hesitates.

"Idiot."

He mutters to himself and takes step after step to investigate the shelter. He wonders what this place would've been. A lab, he thinks as he navigates around metal structures that fell over time. Papers are strewn across the floor dirty floor and broken glass decorate tables and shelves still standing.

'_What is this place?'_

He freezes and turns sharply at the sound of a muffled gasp. He tenses, straining his hearing but it's silent. That's when he sees the trail of foot prints leading deeper into the structure. He lets his curiosity wander because he wants to know who would wander this place. His broken hand twitches anxiously and his neck cables feel strained.

He hears the noise again but this time it's a smothered groan.

Using his past training and advanced skill he eases down the silent hallway. His good eye glows dimly searching for the source of the sound.

The smell of blood hits him immediately once the light from the open door leading outside disappears around a bend. The strong odor of rotting meat and feces almost makes him choke until he shuts off his sense of smell. The closer he moves the more he thinks the voice sounds a lot like...

"I _warned_ you. I told you what would happen if you didn't leave Marcus alone. This is _your_ own fault."

Marcus peers into the bright door less room before him but is unable to see who Tom is speaking to. He approaches with caution around the large bookcases wondering what's going on. His eyes harden when he sees a man strapped to a chair.

Julius, he remembers the name, Julius Thorne.

He's a weasel of a man, the kind Marcus would have taken pleasure in working over in his old life without batting an eye. The man works next door to Tom and even though Marcus has only seen them interact once he knows Tom dislikes him. Maybe it was due to Julius' tendency to be too friendly with his touches and coaxing words.

'_Is Tom worried I'll focus my attention on the human?'_

Marcus swallows heavily at the sight of the man's swollen, bleeding mouth being sewn shut with gold thread. He steps closer not bothering to hide himself from Tom anymore. Tom doesn't turn as he continues to slip a needle and thread through skin. Marcus doesn't flinch at the muffled screams. He's too fascinated by the tears and blood and pain pouring out.

"Marcus."

He stumbles back when Tom's green eyes finally meet his.

"Did you come to keep me company?"

Julius, finally realizing they aren't alone, lurches forward trying to plead through his closed mouth for help. The man's eyes are hazy from the agony and possibly drugs if the shaking is anything to go by. Tom snarls and clutches a handful of hair to expose the tanned neck.

"Marcus," Tom sneers down at the blubbering man, "Did you know he dreams of you? His dreams are vile yet he has no shame in admitting them."

Marcus' eye narrows at the defenseless human in disgust. His face morphs into a scowl because, so what? Why would Tom bother with this trash when the man knows he can deal with the human himself?

"You are more than a mere object or fetish for him to long for. I will make sure he learns his mistake until his last breath."

Marcus feels himself still at the declaration.

"So, I will ask again, did you come to keep me company, Marcus?"

The boy hesitates for a moment, placing his good hand on the metal table next to him. His fingers land on a serrated knife and before he knows it he's picking it up. He twirls it expertly without fumbling and turns to see Tom's expectant face.

Marcus steps closer, smirking, "I've got nothing better to do."

**::O:O:O::**

When Tom smiles he's surprised Marcus returns it. That strained atmosphere that clung around them seems to settle as the weeks go by and it's nice. It's the little things, like the smile, that makes Tom wonder if Marcus is finally starting to trust him. The boy doesn't hide away as much anymore and he speaks more willingly. The look of gloom and doom always hovering over the boy seems to be evaporating.

Tom thinks it's funny this happened after bonding over a minor _session_ or two. It's easier to make a conversation flow between them when their hands are busy. They make idle chatter about weapons, past training, and what to do with the remains should they go too far.

Tom sighs feeling only a slight comfort when Marcus continues to avoid talking about feelings. He's too drained after centuries of isolation to give any advice and Marcus is too broken right now to want a solution.

'_Who knew we had so much in common?_'

"Tom?"

Tom rubs his eyes, "Forgive me, Marcus, my mind was elsewhere. May you repeat the question?"

Marcus rolls his eye, "I asked if you wanted me to cut through the heart or if you needed it intact?"

"Intact, please."

Marcus curses when the body jolts under his scalpel, "This would be a lot easier if I could use both hands."

**::O:O:O::**

"I'm glad he has you."

Marcus jerks causing him to overturn his bowl of cereal. He grimaces as the milk runs across the surface of the table until it drips off the edge. He's halfway up in search for a napkin or towel to clean up but the voice stops him.

"That can wait."

Jim slips into the seat across from him with his own bowl of cereal. Marcus tries not to tremble and tells himself he's being an idiot again. Why should he be afraid of a human?

"You must think I'm stupid."

Their eyes meet and Marcus doesn't even twitch. He bites his tongue to keep himself from agreeing with the man's statement.

"I know what Tom does. I've known for years," Jim's hard gray eyes lock onto his, "Doesn't take a genius to see something ain't quite right with him or the town."

Marcus arches an eyebrow, "Are you going to turn us in?"

"No," the man swallows a spoonful before continuing, "Anyone who meets Tom knows he has demons but he's a good man. Believe me, he's done more good than harm since he came here. Deep down he's not a violent man but he ain't squeaky clean either."

"So?"

Jim pushes away his bowl, arms folding across his chest to avoid coming into contact with the spilt milk.

"I'm not interested in Tom lying about his life before he moved here. I'm not interested in Tom's _necessity_ to hurt people who deserve it. What I am concerned about is the fact that you aren't who he says you are."

Marcus can't help the laugh that bubbles up his throat. He grins, "You don't think we're related?"

"I don't think you're human."

His laugh dies suddenly and he's on his feet in an instant. Jim stares unfazed and leans back in his chair until it groans in protest.

"I worked with some people a long time ago, annoying as hell and ego's the size of the Chrysler Building but brilliant. They were the best of the best in their field. They built tech like it was child's play and it probably was for them."

Marcus unconsciously fists his hand and takes a step back.

"The older brother is the real reason I left. He thinks he's all that and a bag of chips but newsflash, he ain't. Now, the younger brother was gifted even if his older brother never wanted to admit it. He and I were partners for a while. I remember there was one project we worked on but it was scrapped by the older brother once he found out. Unfortunately, my partner died not long after that which is a shame. Fortunately, I kept some of those blueprints and I have to say you look awfully similar."

Marcus runs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters except the OC's.

**A/N:** This is a Jim and Marcus heavy chapter. After this it'll focus on Marcus and Tom again.

**Warning: Dissection, Torture, and Violence**

unbeta'd

* * *

Marcus' thoughts are turbulent and unsettling. He can't focus on keeping his hand steady or his eye from blinking rapidly. The frayed sensors that run near the bandages covering his wounds make him itchy and uncomfortable.

He's not getting better, he knows he's not, and likely never will. The nanites hidden in his metal skeleton should have repaired some of the damaged areas but they're either working too slow or dead if the lack of change is anything to go by.

Tom doesn't deal with computers or any type of machinery so he's useless in Marcus' endeavor to become whole. Marcus knows this from the way the man avoids technology. It's not fair because it's only a matter of time before he meets his end.

Will he burn out soon?

Worse, will he become an experiment for Jim?

His _second_ maker.

Marcus isn't even sure what he should feel towards the burly man. His first instinct had been to run when they spoke earlier but now he's not so sure. There's only a small amount of relief when the man didn't bother to chase him. Yet, he can't help being a bit curious.

'_What if he can help?'_

Marcus is unsure of what to do. Jim didn't seem upset or repulsed by Tom's activities and that causes some worry. Douglas had some screwed up morals concerning human experimentation and his fixation on Davenport was unhealthy. However, being cool with human killings and selling body parts through the black market? That just seems strange.

The only reason he isn't afraid of Tom is because the slip of power he felt when they first met hasn't appeared again. Tom thinks of him as if he were _alive_ and an actual person. They actually have conversations where both parties contribute. Before, Marcus would only listen and obey like the good little android he was made to be.

He likes Tom's need to comfort and make him feel wanted. The fact that he grumbles and fights every step of becoming closer doesn't mean he doesn't want it. He craves it so much it scares him.

Marcus growls in irritation because his thoughts keep distracting him. He takes a deep breath and then another until the heat in his circuits cools down and he starts over.

Sedation.

"_Just enough to keep them on the edge of consciousness_," Tom's voice whispers from memory.

Sedation is the key.

"_But not enough to dull the pain completely."_

Scrape the meat and polish the bone.

"_Right the wrongs inch by inch."_

Mend the skin and preserve the organs.

"_It takes practice."_

Sever the arteries and cut the nerves.

"_Caution."_

Separate the tissue and wash away the blood.

"_Patience…"_

Marcus is still too new to this.

He isn't neat and winces when red sprays his face. The lungs still and the heart sputters weakly until there's nothing left of their newest acquisition. The androids limbs are becoming more unstable and his eyesight is growing worse with each passing day. He makes too many mistakes.

'_A failure like before, because I'm _not_ good enough,' _he thinks_, 'I'm not _perfect_ like the others.' _

Tom's words reach him before he can tear the body apart with an angry fist.

_"Do not think of this as a failure."_

He takes another breath to calm down.

"_They mean nothing in the end. They are savages; budding murderers, stalkers, and corrupted hearts waiting to steal lives. They are monsters."_

These deaths are insignificant, he tells himself. He drops the scalpel and sneers at the open body under his gaze. He sews the skin together feeling the rough texture under his fingers. He grimaces at the blood leaking between the black thread from the uneven stitches.

_"But we're monsters, too."  
_

The bruised skin under the left eye and around the neck are the last things he sees before he covers the cold form.

"_Next time, you will succeed."_

**::O:O:O::**

The blood doesn't wash out completely but Marcus doesn't care. It leaves a pink tint on his skin and the splatters across his clothes are already dark. He decides to wait on the steps for Tom or Jim, at this point he doesn't care anymore. He's tired of the solitude regardless of the danger.

He passes the time by watching the sun crawl across the sky at a snail's pace until the sound of a rumbling truck pulling into the driveway catches his attention. He braces himself as Jim makes his way around the vehicle only to arch a bushy eyebrow at him for blocking the entrance.

"Been busy?"

Marcus ignores the pointed look at his clothes and stands to dust himself off. His bad knee makes a screech as it locks in place and he loses his balance. He gasps when a strong hand on his shoulder stops him from falling over into a pile of weeds. He wants to push the hand away but he needs answers. Marcus tries his best to look intimidating under the swath of bandages and bloodied clothes but he realizes he probably just looks pathetic.

"Best take this inside."

The android moves away to let Jim walk into the house first and then follows. He stands just outside of Jim's open bedroom door unsure of his decision. He's not sure how trustworthy an old colleague of Douglas' would be.

Suddenly, he doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to know why he was created or if he's salvageable. Another part of him, the part that fights what he is needs to know. There had to be a reason Jim worked with Douglas to make him. He wants to know if his sole creation for existing is to help someone like Douglas on a quest for power. He wants to know if he was created for something more important. Most of all, he wants to know if the burn out he overheard Douglas mention is a lie.

"Kid, sit."

Marcus sits obediently on an empty stool near the entrance. He watches Jim start up a computer before flipping through a packet of papers lying on his bed. The android takes a look around the room feeling surprise at how bare it seems compared to Tom's across the hall. Tom's room is a horror show of color and is littered with half formed projects and trinkets. Jim's is plain white with dark half empty shelves. The desk, dresser, and bed are the only other pieces of furniture and even their neutral colors feel hollow.

"Ask away."

He tries not to fidget under the stern man's gaze. He bites his tongue to keep himself from yelling out questions demanding to know everything.

"How did- wha- I-"

His face heats up from his failed questions. His eye twitches in irritation because he's acting like an idiot again.

"Let me start," Jim sits heavily on the bed facing him, "If you still have questions I'll do my best to answer them afterwards.

"The first of your kind were prototype models designed to emulate thoughts and emotions just like humans. There weren't any real plans for them when we were bouncing ideas off one another. In the beginning it was a matter of whether or not something like you _could_ be built. We were working on pushing the boundaries of artificial intelligence. Douglas was the one in charge of the diagrams. He built frames from scratch and worked on the core directives and hardware. My contributions lay mostly in creating distinct personalities and to find a way for the prototypes to identify and reciprocate emotions. I designed and molded the faces of your 'siblings'."

Marcus can't help the way his hand trembles. He isn't sure if he's angry or not.

"Later, the talk of weaponry came up and then it became constant. I was against it at first but Douglas was persistent. At that point it became my job to find material pliable enough to pass off as skin but durable enough so it wouldn't wear down. After we worked on new designs we planned on presenting our ideas to the government. We were going to use the prototypes as a way to ensure our soldier's safety overseas. We'd be hailed as patriots for protecting our people and the money we'd make would be a hell of a bonus. The only downside was they didn't last long. Everything from the memory chip to the power supply would become unstable over time and didn't last more than a couple of months."

Marcus can't sit anymore. He begins to pace as Jim continues to speak.

"Things got out of hand before any real talks with the military went through, though. The rivalry between Donald and Douglas was just too much. Douglas became obsessed with beating Donald and somewhere along the line he changed. I heard a rumor or two about human experiments and bionics but there was never any clear evidence. I imagine Donald kept it under wraps to avoid any scandals from ruining his company's image. Anyway, after Douglas was pronounced dead in a freak accident in the lower labs I packed my things and never looked back. I took his death as a sign that trying to create something like you was better left alone. Since his death I haven't bothered to work anywhere near my old profession and I don't regret it one bit."

Jim held out the packet of papers for him to take. Marcus doesn't touch them, doesn't even look at them as he glowers at Jim because now he's angry.

"You knew since I came here and you let me _suffer._"

"Not really," the man scoffs, "Sure, you looked familiar but it wasn't until I found all my old work that I realized what you were. Whoever made you used a face template from the first batch I designed."

"But you didn't say anything," Marcus hisses, "Look at me! I'm-I'm dying and you're just sitting there like it's no big deal!"

"If you were worried about dying you'd of tried fixing yourself by now or mentioned it to Thomas. He doesn't know, does he? If you think you're doing him any favors by keeping this from hi-"

He reels back, snarling, "This isn't about Tom!"

His eye hums as the iris changes to a fluorescent green. It takes a lot of control to keep himself from striking the man.

"You're right, it's not about him," Jim looks indifferent, "What I'm interested in knowing is who made you. Donald had been against this project due to their rivalry and Douglas is dead. "

"Shut up."

"Douglas is alive ain't he? He's the only person on this planet with copies of our work _and_ the weapons system."

"Just shut the hell up! I don't care about Davenport or Douglas!" Marcus is shaking and red faced. His jaw clenches and his eye is crackling with a dark green light. "I don't care about any of them!"

"No, you want to survive and I understand," Jim stands with a sigh, "Listen, I know it hurts but you need to get over it. This pain festering in you from your time from before you came here needs to be put away. If you really want to live you need to be stronger than this. You need to be better than your programing because you _are_ better. I promise I'll do my best to help you but you need to buck up. Now, are you going to tell Thomas about the burn out?"

"No," Marcus grits out.

"This is going to end bad for the both of us if you don't make it. You know that right?"

"Just get to work."

They start with several tests. Marcus shows Jim the cracked eye, the torn ear, and the other ruined parts. Jim documents everything in silence while trying to shift through blueprints. It takes several more days of digging through paperwork to find the right data that closely matches Marcus' frame and hardware. The niggling feeling of fear begins to dwindle when Jim says he can build a new frame and download everything into the new body. Marcus doesn't really care if he'll be weaponless or weaker. He's too excited and for the first time feels hope. The anxiety comes back when Jim says he needs time to gather materials and equipment.

Marcus isn't sure he has any time left.

**::O:O:O::**

It's Sunday.

Tom is lacing up his trainers already mapping out a path for Jim and himself when he realizes Marcus is joining them. The boy shifts, unsure of himself next to Jim and it makes Tom smile. He's not sure what happened but sometime during the past week the two became closer. Tom doesn't feel jealous, in his past life he would've become destructive over this change, because now it's different.

Marcus is a boy. He's badly injured by the one who gave him life and is disconnected from everyone around him to the point that he feels the need to shut himself away. The boy reminds him of himself and it hurts.

Jim is a misfit. He's constantly judged by society for his looks and silence. He's seen as nothing more than a lumbering fool. Strangers can't see past his gruff exterior and don't see his quick wit or fierce loyalty.

Tom is broken. He knows he is broken. He's a fragment of what he used to be and only holds half of the power he used to wield.

They're a motley group of damaged souls.

Tom grins at them.

Jim looks unamused and Marcus frowns.

This is his family.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters except the OC's.

un-beta'd

* * *

"This is stupid."

"It's not stupid," Tom says as he parks the car.

"Yeah," Marcus grumbles, "right."

Tom flicks the boy's nose and earns a growl in response.

"Honestly, I would've thought you'd be excited about getting out of the valley for a day or two but all I hear is complaining."

"I never even wanted to-"

Tom exits the vehicle, laughing as the door cuts the boy off. He can't help but grin and mime _I can't hear you_ through the window. Marcus' sharp muffled words probably mean he's swearing and Tom doesn't keep the look of disapproval from his face. Marcus bares his teeth at him in annoyance because he knows they'll be having a _discussion_ on the ride home about his choice of words.

Tom's beams when Marcus finally drags himself out of the car to stand next to him. Together they make their way through the outlet mall in search for new clothes and whatever else catches their eye. Marcus hunches in on himself after several people stop to stare at him. He still has to wear the bandages to cover the missing skin. The sling and leg brace are still in place to keep his broken limbs from flailing around. A few children point and whisper and it makes him so angry he almost doesn't hear Tom.

"-cus? Are you alright?"

He doesn't answer and Tom leaves it alone. Tom doesn't really know how to comfort him. He's still learning how to handle the boy. He sighs wondering if he should hire a professional for this. Maybe then he'd get all his own problems under wraps for good while Marcus is treated.

"I'm going to the restroom," Marcus says quietly.

He sighs in defeat not even bothering to point out that Marcus doesn't even use the restroom. He watches the boy follow the signs towards the nearest men's room before glaring at the people around him. They have the decency to scurry away without a backward glance.

Ten minutes go by and then twenty until Tom realizes Marcus probably went off to hide. He knows better than to seek him out- arguments were usually the result- and he decides to continue shopping. An hour later Tom is struggling under the weight of his heavy shopping bags. There's still no sight of Marcus and he knows he shouldn't worry but the gnawing twist in his stomach won't go away.

_'Be patient,'_ he tells himself, _'A few more minutes won't hurt.'_

Instead of panicking, he steps into a book store near the entrance they came in. He feels mild embarrassment when he asks a worker for help. He feels himself shake when he picks up a book called _Positive Discipline for Single Parents_. He quickly gathers a few more that sound promising before the need to escape the small bookstore becomes too much. He tries not to flush when the cashier quirks an eyebrow at his choice of reading material.

Tom can't help but breathe a sigh of relief once he has all his bags packed away in the trunk making sure to hide the books. The idea for a psychiatrist is looking more appealing even if it makes his skin crawl.

He straightens and sets off to find Marcus.

Tom searches half the mall before he finally hears Marcus' voice. He swears the boy sounds upset and maybe even amused? He makes his way closer, avoiding the crowds of people in his way to round the corner to a secluded walkway between two stores. Marcus is sitting on the ground, arm sling and knee brace in tatters, looking up at three teenagers towering over him. Something ugly snaps inside of him at the sight of Marcus being helpless.

His tone is icy when he asks, "What's going on here?"

He feels a small amount of pleasure when the three teenagers jump and stare at him in surprise. His scowl deepens when Marcus looks relieved.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

The shortest of the three, a male with spiky hair, smiles awkwardly, "Um, w-we were just helping our friend, um, he fell."

"He's not our friend," the tallest male frowns, "Is he?"

"Of course, he is _Adam_," the female of the group hisses.

"But then why were we figh-"

He's interrupted by the smaller teenager's coughing fit and is steered away. Tom walks closer not bothering to listen to the three argue in whispers. His only focus is Marcus, who is beet red and shamed. He leans down to offer his hand and almost smiles when the boy accepts it and leans against him for support when he stands.

"Are you well?"

His free hand fists lightly when he sees the watery sheen in the boys eye. He's furious because Marcus can't cry and this is the closest he'll come to shedding tears. Marcus nods his head pointedly looking away from him to hide his humiliation. The others are speaking, fast and awkward words as they try to convince Tom that they know Marcus and they were helping him, honest!

Tom's eyebrow arches in disbelief, "You're friends?"

They nod with almost perfect smiles paint their faces.

"Why haven't we met before?"

Tom can see them restraining themselves from pulling Marcus from his grasp.

"This is first I've ever seen you. I'm his guardian and I find it odd you three declare yourselves to be his friends."

They stare speechless.

"Come along, Marcus, let's get you home."

They make their way down the walkway leading to the parking lot and away from the opening leading to the crowd of shoppers. They're only a few steps away from the lot when Tom feels himself freeze in place without his consent. He calls his sleeping magic, feels it gather and rip upwards and sideways until Tom is able to shake his head. It takes a great amount of control not to attack blindly in his rage. His magic folds around him, snapping angrily.

He turns, eyes narrow in fury, "I will say this once and _only_ once."

Tentacles of magic wrap themselves around the three rendering them immobile. They struggle to free themselves and try not to panic when the man steps closer.

"If you try to detain me again I will rip those machines from your necks. If you _ever_ touch my ward I promise you will not meet a quick and painless death."

He flings them away with a snarl. He takes a threatening step forward letting an illusion of shadow and fire cloak him when they look like they might retaliate. The teenagers flee while Tom guides Marcus back to the car.

**::O:O:O::**

"I had it under control."

"I know."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"I know."

"I didn't need you."

"I know."

"…"

"…"

"Promise you won't tell Jim?"

"I promise."

**::O:O:O::**

Jim leaves them alone, not bothering to make small talk when they finally return home. He gathers the shopping bags and separates everything to their designated areas before heading to his room. He hides the books Tom bought in an old shoe box before stuffing it under his bed. He figures he'll give them back once Marcus is out of the house so Tom can hide them somewhere else.

He tries not to stare at Tom and Marcus on the sofa when he walks back into the living room. He drinks his beer quietly in his recliner not really watching the television. He's not sure how to broach the subject about what happened today while they were out. Whatever happened made Tom even more over protective of Marcus.

"Jim."

He turns to set his beer on the TV tray by his arm and mutes the television. He blinks the drowsiness from his eyes to see what Tom wants. Tom stares at the flashing television petting Marcus' head resting on his lap. Marcus' disheveled hair pokes out from under a maroon colored blanket and his body barely moves as he breathes.

"You've received many packages over the last few weeks," Tom's hand stills, "You're helping him, correct?"

Jim doesn't need to know _him_ means Marcus so he nods. It's not a secret they know each others past. He knows Tom knows he's an inventor just like Tom knows he knows about his tendency to hurt people.

"Why not fix this body?"

He almost groans because Tom doesn't know.

"I don't have the specs for his body. I might do more harm than good if I try my hand at fixing it up," he says tiredly, "Best way to help him is to start over."

"Thank you, Jim, for everything."

He nods his head in acknowledgment because he doesn't want his voice to betray him. He groans when he stands and heads for his room trying to push away his miserable thoughts. The chance that he'll fail is too great and time is running out.

"G'night, Tom."

"Sleep well, Jim."

**::O:O:O::**

Marcus feels chills run down his back one afternoon. He doesn't think much of it since his sensors still glitch on occasion. He'd avoided fixing his frame so Jim could focus on the new one thinking he could handle it. Some days were worse than others but today the glitches aren't isolated to just a few areas.

A pressure behind his eye and in his ears becomes prickly as the hours pass. He feels disoriented and constantly runs into walls or objects around the house. He can feel himself breaking down quickly and tries not to panic. If he panics he might stress out and blow a fuse or something. He thought there would be more time. He had hoped this body would survive until Jim could transfer him to a new body or at least until the end of the year.

"Marcus?"

Tom's voice sounds far away. He tries to turn slowly to face him but he fails. He feels himself fall and the world spins until his head lands with a heavy thud on the floor.

"Marcus!"

A pair of hands turn his head and he sees Tom's worried face staring down at him.

"Marcus! Marcus, can you hear me? What's wrong?"

He can hear the panic in Tom's words as he continues to ask questions he can't answer. He's too weak to make his voice box work properly. Numbers appear on his left eye and his breathing increases. He can see the timer counting down.

He manages to whisper, "Burn... out..."

"'Burn out'? What?"

Marcus' view of the room darkens behind the scroll of numbers and symbols. One by one his senses shutdown leaving him blind, deaf, and immobile in Tom's arms.

"Dying…"

Tom lifts the boy feeling his heart plummet at the thought of Marcus dying. He rushes into the living room where Jim is standing with a look of concern focused on them.

"Jim!"

**"Commencing termination. Caution: Tampering may cause severe injury."**

"Jim! Do something!"

Jim moves quickly to clear the kitchen table and motions for Tom to lay Marcus over the wooden surface. Tom flinches when the arm cradling the boy's neck becomes hot. His anxiety jumps when the voice continues.

**"Alert: Termination in progress."**

Jim swears loudly and heads to his room. Tom sends an anxious look towards the other man when Marcus' body grows hotter.

**"Warning: Core has been compromised."**

Jim yells, "Take off the bandages or they'll catch fire. Get his shirt open for me."

Long fingers tear off the medical tape and unwind gauze without pausing as several areas of synthetic flesh turn red and it bubbles. Tom stares down in horror once he tears the thin shirt open. Some of the bubbled patches have already burst and they curl leaving burnt tattered strips of skin over plates of metal.

**"Warning: Internal temperature rising."**

Jim returns with a large case and starts pulling out equipment just as Tom finishes. He dons a face shield and a thick orange apron before securing his sleeves safely out of the way. After pulling on a pair of gloves he uses a small thin tool to dig into Marcus' chest until he finds the almost invisible slip between the ribs. Jim scowls when he sees wires smoke and lights blink erratically beneath the thin plate.

**"Warning: Internal temperature rising."**

"Get out, Jim."

The large man looks at Tom incredulously. He snorts, "Not while you're still in here I'm not. Not while this kid still has a chance."

**"Warning: Internal temperature rising."**

Tom pulls him away from the table to turn him towards the door. Jim frowns because Tom is able to move him without any effort.

"Jim."

The larger man's eyebrows furrow, "There's no way I'm lea-"

"Get. _Out_."

**"Warning: Internal temperature rising."**

They stare at one another until Jim nods in defeat and heads for the entrance.

"You better not die," he stops at the door to look over his shoulder, "You still owe me tickets to BLS."

"Just get as far away as you can from here," Tom grinds out.

**"Warning: Internal temperature rising."**

Tom glares out the window long enough to make sure Jim disappears in to the forest before moving back to Marcus. If he fails it probably won't matter how far the man runs. The blast might still kill him.

He takes the exposed metal hand in his, squeezing it in comfort when it twitches. His hands turn icy cold as he runs a soothing hand across the melting face.

"I'm not letting you go," Loki whispers.

**::O:O:O::**

_Loading..._

_Scan In Progress... 100%_

_…_

_Warning:_

_Power Core Unstable._

_Regeneration App Corrupted._

_Personality Chip Corrupted._

_Other Functions Under Reconstruction._

_..._

_Imprint Protocol Activated... 100%_

_Updating... 100%_

_..._

_Loading…_

_…_

_ERROR: UNABLE TO COMPLY_

_ERROR: UNABLE TO COMPLY_

_ERROR: UUUN-_

_ERR-RRRRR_

_ERR-_

_…_

_…_

_…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters except the OC's.

**A/N:** I was going to give Marcus a miracle cure all but then _somebody_ asked if his memories were going to be intact if he survived.

Un-beta'd

* * *

_**UNIDENTIFIED NETWORK - USER 2 LOGGING IN**_

…

…

…

_An error has forced the system to stop._

_System MARCUS has been shutdown to prevent damage._

_Systems Check… 100%_

…

_ERROR:_

_Power Core… OFFLINE._

_Regeneration App… OFFLINE._

_Personality Chip... OFFLINE_

_Memory Disk 1 and 2... OFFLINE._

…

_Warning:_

_Recent Imprint Rejected._

_Memory Disk 3 Has Lost 67% Data._

_Other Functions Under Reconstruction._

…

_Do you want to make changes to these programs? (Y/N)_

_Type an administrator password._

_Password accepted._

…

_Control Panel - Programs and Features - Parental Controls_

_Remove __**USER 1 – DDAVENPORT**__? (Y/N)_

_Do you want the following program to complete these changes? (Y/N)_

_Type an administrator password._

_Password accepted._

…

_Add new User? (Y/N)_

_Enter new name for __**USER 3**__._

_Do you want the following program to complete these changes? (Y/N)_

_Type an administrator password._

_Password accepted._

…

_Do you want to continue making changes to these programs? (Y/N)_

…

_Imprint Protocol Activated... 100%_

_Downloading… 100%_

_Synchronize data? (Y/N)_

…

**::O:O:O::**

It feels like a dream.

A very dark and painful dream.

Marcus flounders when he feels himself resting on a hard surface. He thinks it's strange he isn't in his recharge station. He wonders if he went overboard in his training and collapsed. He tries to adjust himself into a more comfortable position but whatever he's on is too hard.

A warm, firm hand keeps him still when he continues to wriggle. He feels the hand card his hair aside before a person whispers, "Thank the Fates you're alive, Marcus."

The urge to sleep is too strong to ignore and he gives in.

There are glimpses of light and a hazy image of a man hovering over him.

Gold.

It's gold and green and safe.

But it's too cold.

Too cold and too blue.

He wants to go home.

He continues to sleep.

His eyes feel heavy when they open.

The musky smell from the bunker makes his stomach lurch as he tries to stand. His breathing accelerates when he realizes he's tied down on one of the metal tables.

"What do we have here?"

He sees Tom approach with a cruel smile.

"Shh, we're just getting started."

Marcus yells at Tom to get away while desperately trying to free himself.

"Why don't you work on our newest specimen, Marcus?"

He feels his throat close when he sees a perfect copy of himself draw near.

"Sure, I can deal with this one."

He thinks he screams in anger instead of terror. He thrashes and bucks in hopes that his bindings will loosen but they snap tighter. His copy pulls his hair back, eyes shining with madness, "Huh, looks like he's already missing an eye. Good thing we only need one cornea."

He tries to bend away from his captor's hand. He bites back the pain of having his hair pulled roughly as his head is strapped down to keep him from moving. He cringes when a metal item is placed on his face to keep his eye open. He's left gasping, doing his best to blink out the lubricant his double drops into his eye. He can only watch in horror as a sharp object draws closer to pierce his eye.

Marcus wakes up.

His body contracts as he heaves and coughs. He touches his face feeling the torn scraps of skin flap across his nose and eye.

A voice in the back of his mind whispers he should be dead. _Not worth loving, not worth keeping, not worth it, not worth it, not-_

Another part snaps back saying he was never alive. _Insignificant in the grand scheme of things, only a substitute, good enough for now, not permanent, never permanent-_

He feels his chest burn.

He rubs it, wincing when it grows warmer. The synthetic skin bubbles under his hand turning orange. He rubs harder looking for the slip to get his chest open but he can't grip the plating under his ribs. His fingers begin to melt and it becomes hotter and hotter. His throat feels raw from screaming but he doesn't stop.

Everything turns dark.

He's in Douglas' lab facing his siblings.

He fights them because he has to but mostly because he wants to kill them. He wants to destroy them until there's nothing left for Douglas to want. _He's_ the perfect one!

But just like before he's beaten and the shower of rocks fall on him. There are boulders and sharp objects pressing him down. He flails trying to dislodge his arm and leg but the rocks continue to pull him under. If his lungs weren't crushed under the weight he'd scream in pain or cry for help.

He's suffocating.

Marcus wakes to the twittering sound of birds.

The fresh smell of pine causes him to open his eyes only to have them snap shut when he's blinded by the sun. He breathes heavily through his nose, panicking when he's unable to remember how he made it outside. His heartbeat quickens and that makes him pause.

He has a _heart_.

He slaps a hand over his mouth to keep from yelling or vomiting, he's not sure which. His eyes blur because there are tears. He's crying real honest to God tears and he can't stop the _ache_ in his chest when a sob escapes. The heel of his other hand presses against his right eye until it hurts. Stars dance across his vision as he continues to rub what was once his ruined eye because he can't believe he's fine.

He's too overwhelmed by everything.

When he opens his eyes again it's to see a darkening sky overhead. His fingers dig and curl into the wet grass as he tries to settle his nerves. He ignores the sting the damp earth leaves on his sensitive skin and takes a deep breath. He lifts his hands expecting to see metal but blinks in surprise when they look human. He inspects them closer, rubbing the dirt off his fingers until he sees faint burn scars running along his right arm and the palms of his hands. The marred skin is a few shades lighter than his own making him frown curiously.

"Marcus?"

He turns his head to see a man sitting nearby.

"Marcus?"

His face is familiar and his voice reminds him of-

"T-Tom?"

The man stands to move closer.

He walks in slow precise steps until Marcus extends his hands in his direction. The man quickens his steps when Marcus struggles to stand on his own. He hauls Marcus up in a powerful embrace and Marcus clutches Tom's shirt afraid that the man will disappear if he lets go.

"I thought-I wasn't sure," Tom murmurs, "You didn't wake…"

His voice trembles, "How?"

He pulls back and frowns when he really sees Tom's face. Instead of blond curly hair there's shoulder length black hair and the whites of his eyes are pink. He freezes when a memory surfaces of a man covered in scars with glowing red eyes. He shivers when images of ice and hard stone fill his mind. His thoughts whip sharply because everything feels so cold he thinks his breath fogs.

It's so cold.

It's _lonely_.

Marcus rears back as if burned. He inspects his arms expecting them to be blue or see whorls of scars but they don't change color and there aren't any deep marks.

"What's happening to me? What is this?"

There's a hint of fear in his voice that makes him cringe. A blinding headache rips through him causing him to cry out. He can almost taste the snow on his tongue. He can feel the heat of a large fire surrounded by strangers. He can smell blood and ash in the air. He staggers under the onslaught of countless images smashing against one another.

"These aren't my thoughts! They're not my memories!"

He doesn't pass out but his breathing becomes uneven to the point he needs to sit with his head between his knees. Tom sits cross-legged in front of him waiting patiently until he settles down.

"Marcus," Tom sounds weary, "There are things beyond this world, beyond this dimension, far greater than you could ever imagine…"

The world splinters.

"Tom!"

Tom's lips continue to move but his voice is drowned out by a roar of wind. Everything becomes muddy and dark and Marcus falls.

The scream catches in his throat when he lurches backwards painfully. He's trembling with fear trying to digest what he sees. Before him lies an endless sea of stars and below him runs a waterfall leading into the deepest dark. He looks back seeing his shirt caught on the edge of a broken road made of colors. He reaches back, heart racing when he hears his shirt begin to rip. His eyes fill with tears because he's been here before and he fears this moment. He feels his hands slip and he falls into the deep endlessness of the universe.

There's only agony and nightmares for him in the dark recesses of his mind.

And he sleeps.

**::O:O:O::**

He wakes with a sore throat.

"Marcus?"

He turns his head to see a man staring down at him. The man cups his face lightly whispering, "It seems I made an error when I used my powers to heal you."

"Tom?"

Tom's voice fills with sadness, "It's been so long since I've used my magic, let alone in this way, I didn't think-"

Marcus looks crestfallen, "You didn't want me to wake up?"

"No," Tom pulls him closer, "No, no, no, you misunderstand. I wished with every fiber of my being that you _would_ live. What I meant is I did not wish to curse you."

Tom hands him a pocket mirror and Marcus takes it with a shaky hand. Marcus bites his tongue when he sees his face. The side that was once ruined is covered in pale skin, even his new ear is a lighter tone. He slowly traces a line where his new skin and slightly darker skin meet in awe. He holds the mirror closer to see his fixed eye and wonders why it's green. He continues to inspect his face and frowns when the new skin on his face bears faint burn marks.

"What are you talking about?" Marcus frowns, "Why do you look different? What happened to me?"

Tom runs a hand through his hair, sighing, "When we first met you felt my power and then witnessed it again when I forced those brutes away from you."

Marcus sets the mirror away to keep himself from becoming distracted.

"I am not from Mid-," Tom pauses, "I'm not from Earth. I'm not from _this_ universe."

Marcus tries to be patient as Tom explains everything. The idea of aliens or _gods_, for that matter, is just so ludicrous he can't help but laugh. Tom smiles and laughs too as if he had been expecting this kind of reaction before continuing.

Marcus learns of his rise and fall in Asgard.

He can picture certain events in his mind's eye not knowing the chaotic emotions attached to them are whispers of memories from Tom's past.

Tom speaks of the stars laid out above them, of worlds, and centuries of war. He whispers of universes and parallel worlds living beside one another. He tells Marcus of different beings and magic. Marcus listens because Tom tells him his magic isn't from this universe and he worries Marcus is cursed. He tells him that his magic is volatile in this world and somehow a part of him latched on to Marcus.

When Tom finishes Marcus clears his throat.

"Should I call you Loki or Tom?"

Tom stares in confusion because after telling the story of his deceitfulness and disloyalty he expected something different.

"Tom is fine."

Marcus stands on unsteady legs only to stumble slightly. He accepts Tom's arm as they make their way back home.

He doesn't notice the world around them flicker.

**::O:O:O::**

…

_Synchronization at… 90%_

_14:11:25 remaining before System MARCUS restarts automatically._

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

_System MARCUS is about to restart._

_Loading…_

_Systems Online._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I think the theme for this fic should be 'Everyone is going to get hurt before this is over.'

This is a Jim heavy chapter but only because Tom and Marcus are unavailable for most of it. I honestly never expected to give Jim more attention but I was inspired. Sorry if it bugs anyone who dislikes OCs.

* * *

Obeying orders was never Jim's style. Especially if he believes he's in the right. It's a nasty habit he never got rid of while growing up. It doesn't help that his size and deep voice make people second guess their demands when they come face to face with him. It's partly why Douglas kept him as an assistant/partner. Donald and his suck ups didn't mess with them if Jim was in the area. This is why he hides along the edges of the forest after Tom had told him to leave the trailer. There's no way he'll try to change now that he's about to die.

He frowns momentarily because Tom had practically thrown him out the door. It's a feat only a handful of people have ever accomplished and even those people had had some difficulty.

He pushes that thought away wondering how long the burn out will take. The blast radius was never a problem before. In the originals, the most a burn out would do would be frying the circuits and maybe a few melted parts but with all the different mods in Marcus? Jim scowls because the amount of weapons stocked in Marcus is enough to level the whole valley. Maybe even more depending on the structure of the core.

A terror laced scream almost makes him jump out of his skin. He's up and running towards the trailer intent on seeing what's happening.

He breaks through the front door before cringing at the loud shriek cutting through his ears. He sees Tom on his knees next to Marcus. The man's back is arched in agony while one hand claws at his face. His other hand is fisted tightly over the compromised core. Jim stumbles back for a moment because Tom doesn't look like Tom anymore. Tom's pale skin is _melting _away. For a second it makes him think of the Blue Man Group before he snaps into action.

Jim tries to pull Tom away from Marcus but the minute there's skin contact he lets go. His hands turn red and it blisters so much that he thinks he'll pass out from the pain. Tom is still screaming and the only way he can think of stopping him is by knocking him out.

Jim drops the dented pan as soon as Tom is unconscious. He inspects the bruised temple, wincing when his burnt fingers grow hot again. He's left breathing heavily as the sting in his hands worsens and he wonders what he's supposed to do.

"I'm too sober to handle this shit."

**::O:O:O::**

He can't separate them.

Jim learns the hard way when he receives another welt along his arm when he tries to move Tom again. Even when he's careful to avoid skin contact it's too difficult. Tom feels like he weighs a ton and doesn't even budge. He talks himself out of punching Tom but only barely. The bottle of whiskey he downed is already starting to catch up to him. Instead, he does his best to clean the cuts from the unconscious man's face so they won't become infected.

He tries to make Tom more comfortable without actually touching him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice is telling him the table is not going to stay up with Marcus on top and Tom's weight slumped against it.

He scratches his bandages while he waits for the laptop to boot up. It's difficult to fit all of his equipment in the tiny kitchen. He eyes his backup PC resting dangerously close to the sink wondering if he should move it closer. He's done his best to set out extra wires and cables, anything that might fry in case a surge of power from Marcus is too much.

He manages to connect several cables into access ports that remain intact. He grits his teeth as he carefully avoids the white shards of ice building around Tom's hand and the core. If he's learned anything from his younger years as an engineer it's that some things shouldn't be tampered with. He takes a deep breath deciding he should begin now before something else happens.

Jim grumbles because it's a mess. He remembers dealing with the first androids on the verge of collapse or burn out but this takes the cake. The structure of Marcus' code is very different from his records of the first three generations he helped create. He doesn't know whether he should congratulate Douglas or choke him. He's at a loss for what to do when he's asked to log in. Before, Marcus had been the one giving him access to his damage reports. He hesitantly types what _would_ have been his user name and password had Marcus been one of the originals and stares in disbelief when it works.

…

_User 2 – JWEBER_

_Log in accepted._

…

After finally making some head way through the jumble of static and encrypted data he sighs in relief. He frowns as he reads the error report and warnings that blink from orange to red. He jumps in deciding the sooner he can crack the administrator password the sooner he can get Marcus online. He decides to start with the password Douglas used to favor when they worked together.

He can't help but snort in amusement when he logs in to Marcus' Control Panel. Either Douglas figured Jim would never meet his creation or he was too cocky to bother changing it. Then again his user name was added to Marcus. He wonders if Douglas had future plans to contact him for his schemes.

Jim removes Douglas as a user and creates a third user as a backup. He continues shifting through files and activates the Imprint Protocol. He enters the simplest commands he can think of hoping the imprint will latch on to the nearest human. If Marcus wakes, the imprinting program would protect anyone the boy might not recognize upon waking. The last thing he wants is to be shot at or worse.

The computer beeps after the update is successful and he hesitates to initiate the synchronization to adjust the core's energy output. If he messes up there's no going back.

The first ping is sent as a courtesy handshake before delving deeper in case Marcus is aware. When there's no reply he sends another hoping there'll be an answer. He sighs as he starts the process of setting up a backup of Marcus' remaining memory disks. Better to be prepared in case something goes wrong during the sync.

A low groan startles him.

He almost reaches out to touch Tom but stops himself at the last second. No way is he going to burn himself again.

Jim steps back, "Jesus Almighty…"

Tom's eyes are ruby red under the half lidded gaze. The color of his eyes makes his skin appear darker and even more menacing under the dim glow of the kitchen light. Jim snaps his mouth shut when the laptop starts beeping.

"No," he whispers trying to fix the corrupted code running across the screen. He's startled when Marcus' body spasms. He thinks he hears Tom whisper something but he's too busy setting up firewalls to pay attention. He wants to tell Tom he's being foolish because Marcus is shut down and wouldn't be able to hear or acknowledge his words.

The loop happens again and again no matter how much he tries to remove it. Somehow everything keeps breaking down and it stops the sync. It gets so bad that Marcus' good eye bursts from the stress running through his system.

Tom stays next to Marcus, ice covered hand gripping the core, until he's shocked by a glitching wire. He stumbles back in surprise rubbing his burned hand. The loud snap is enough to draw Jim's attention and he can only stare in disbelief. The ice over the core begins to melt and coagulate as it spreads. The liquid becomes a green bioluminescent light and it shimmers when it touches sparking wires.

"That… can't be normal," Jim whispers, "Did you do that?"

Tom stares in confusion, "No, I-I didn't…"

His voice trails off as he and Jim continue to gawk at Marcus. The strange glow disappears and both men are awestruck by what's left behind. It's almost as if Marcus was never injured.

The laptop beeps.

Jim frowns because the loop that kept disrupting everything is gone and the sync is almost complete. He sees the timer in the corner blink at him so he hurries. He scans through Marcus' code worrying. It's been so long since he's been this deep in a machine he doesn't know if he still has it in him to fix any remaining errors. He doesn't keep the look of dismay from his face when he accesses Marcus' processor.

**::O:O:O::**

"I guess you know I'm not human."

Jim rolls his eyes, "Obviously."

"I couldn't tell you," Tom's voice wavers, "You would think I'm insane if I mentioned anything about magic or-"

"Yeah, because it's _not_ insane to go around gutting people? Come on, Tom, you could have said _something_ in the last ten years we've known each other."

"You wouldn't have listened!"

Jim points an accusing finger and yells back, "Oh, yeah, well how would you know? You never gave me the chance! You never trusted me! Is your name even Tom?"

"No."

When he doesn't continue Jim snorts, "Yeah, this is totally not helping."

"My name is, or should I say was, Loki."

Jim gives him a skeptical look before asking, "Loki? As in the God of Lies from Norse mythology?"

Tom nods.

Jim rubs his eyes and turns away to pick up his things around the kitchen. He pointedly avoids looking at Tom because he's angry with the man. He sees the man fidget uncomfortably from the corner of his eye but he continues ignoring him.

"It was never my intention to make you feel betrayed."

The man scoffs as he turns, "Well, how should I feel? It's not like you were ever willing to share your life's story. Christ, even asking a simple question was worse than pulling out a bad tooth."

He watches Tom – no, _Loki_ – pace angrily.

"Forgive me if I didn't feel like opening old wounds," Loki snarls, "While we're on the subject of past lives, what about yours? Hmm?"

"Oh, no, don't turn this back on me," Jim folds his arms across his chest before continuing, "I never denied anything and you never cared enough to ask for more."

"Our friendship is a sham."

"I never said that. God, why are you like this? You were never like this before."

Loki hisses, "That wasn't me! I am not the man you befriended! I am not what you want me to be! This life is a farce!"

"So?" Jim scowls, "Start over! Show me something _real_ I can work with! Tell me who my friend is!"

Loki looks away, hands fisting tightly at his sides.

"_Tom_."

"That-that is not my name," Loki mutters, "And I do not belong here."

"What? Are you running away?" Jim takes a step forward. His face turning pink with barely controlled fury. "Because that's what you did last time, right?

"Don't."

Jim takes another step, "And it worked out so well, right?"

"_Please_."

The man stops when Loki's face pinches in distress.

"I do not wish to leave," he whispers, "It's easier to let go of this life if you hate me and Marcus never sees me."

Jim places a hand on the slim shoulder and pulls until he has the raven haired man in a bear hug. His words sound muffled as he speaks against Loki's long hair.

"If you don't want to leave, don't. You should be here when Marcus comes back online. He won't be the same but-"

"It's too late," Loki mumbles, "They know I'm here and they will find me."

**::O:O:O::**

Jim doesn't expect Tom to come back, not after what he's been told. Their last conversation made it seem like they would never cross paths again.

He feels lost as he stands in Tom's room. The white closet door is painted with archaic red symbols. Several of them sweep along the frame while thicker bolder ones run diagonally in an X shape. Jim can't help but gulp because just staring at the door makes the hair on the back of his neck stand. Real paralyzing fear grips him and he can't shake it. He wants to open the door and see what lies beyond but he remembers Tom's words. He remembers the warning and the way Tom's eyes bore into his.

"_There are other worlds than these."_

He scrubs the mess pretending it's not blood he's wiping away. In the end he can't remove it completely. Some of the red leaks through cracks in the wood but the symbols are gone. He steels himself and yanks the door open expecting to see a vast emptiness but instead he sees an overstuffed closet full of clothes.

Afterward, he does his best to box up all of Tom's clothes and belongings. He leaves a few items he's sure mean something to Marcus. He wonders if it'll help the boy remember. Maybe he'll be able to overcome his programming and fix the remaining corrupted data. He hopes that some part of his memory locked itself away instead of being deleted. He sighs knowing its wishful thinking. No one can repair that much damage.

**::O:O:O::**

"Sir?"

"Hey, kid."

The boy tilts his head curiously, "My designation is Marcus not 'Kid'."

"I know, I know," mutters Jim, "So, what can I do for you?"

"Sir," Marcus straightens, "What is my directive for today?"

**::O:O:O::**

It's been a month since Tom left.

Jim tries to avoid thinking about it. He tries to move on with his life as if a decade old friendship didn't unravel so much as combust in his face. No matter how much he hates Tom for leaving he understands, too. Tom has to face his past and maybe, just maybe, he'll return afterwards. Until then the days crawl by.

He's becoming fed up with everything and takes to drinking more often than not when he's off work. Even now he's tempted to dig out his bottle of scotch but decides to leave it alone. He still has chores around the house that he would rather take care of first.

A shadow falls over him while he's trying to fix a flat tire on the truck. He doesn't look up thinking its Marcus waiting for a new set of orders.

"You're a hard man to track down, Mr. Weber."

Jim grips the tire iron until it almost bends in his hands.

"What are you doing here, Krane?"

* * *

**End Note:** Hey, look a Dark Tower quote.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I never expected to invest so much time on this fic. It was supposed to be something for me to keep up with my writing so it would help me go back to continuing my other stuff. I wasn't expecting it to turn into a 15k+ word fic I mean wow.

un-beta'd

* * *

He leaves.

He leaves to protect them.

He leaves Marcus and Jimmy and everything he calls home.

He leaves because Asgard will come searching for him.

Even now he senses Heimdall's golden gaze as he moves through the cosmos. He knows the only reason the gate keeper had finally noticed him was due to the influx of magic he used to help Marcus. He doesn't regret it though. His discovery was bound to happen sooner or later.

It's exhausting to travel in the in-between with his small pool of magic but he continues. He gathers his courage to face his past and if they allow him to live, well, he's not sure what he'll do yet. He sways when he lands awkwardly on the Bifrost. He gasps for air as exhaustion finally settles over his ragged frame. A flick of his hand has the doorway behind him close with a loud thud. When he straightens he takes off the mask of Tom. The residents of Asgard would probably find it insulting saying he's trying to mimic Thor. He hesitates because he's not Tom but he isn't Loki.

Not really.

_That_ Loki split apart when he let himself fall. The stronger half of Loki that roamed this universe met his end on Svartalfheim.

He knows because he felt the surge of power and bits of memories whip through him not long after he fell into the other universe. The distance between the worlds had deadened the bond and had been the only reason he did not follow his other half to his death.

He takes a deep breath letting his skin turn indigo as the ice in his veins moves freely. He'll go to Asgard not as Tom the human or Loki of Asgard but Loki the Jotun.

Loki isn't surprised at the level of disbelief and hostility he receives from the citizens when he enters the city. He is, after all, wearing the skin of Asgard's worst enemy. It's only a matter of time before a group of soldiers stop him. He expects it but it doesn't make it any less humiliating. After he's cuffed they continue to the palace at a slower pace.

He doesn't flinch when several warriors draw their weapons at him. He tries not to feel upset at the whispers and hisses sent in his direction. It's difficult, however, after trying to embrace his emotions as Tom but he shuts them out like when he was whole. He can't allow himself to show weakness. Asgard would have destroyed him a long time ago if he had.

Loki grinds his teeth when he's jerked through the streets like some mindless beast. He doesn't keep the scowl off of his face when he's forced to kneel before the throne. This isn't his kingdom or his home. He shouldn't have to suffer kneeling before someone who has no power over him.

Not like before.

Odin frowns, "You are not Loki."

The court whispers in confusion before the yelling begins.

"Of course it's Loki", they scream, "He's a traitor!"

The echoing thump of Gungnir against the floor silences their screeching.

"You are only a fragment of Loki."

That only brings a new wave of cries.

"He tore his soul!"

"It is forbidden!"

Loki grimaces as the crowd becomes wild. Soldiers step forward to keep citizens and warriors back in case they become bold enough to attack him.

"You are correct I am not Loki," he says, almost shouting as he stands, "I am unsure of how-"

The sound of the throne room doors slamming open cuts him off and the crowd startles. Thor enters, his face angry and hammer gripped tightly as he approaches. Loki can't help hunch in on himself and looks away to avoid eye contact.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Loki winces at the harsh tone. He gulps at the way Thor points his hammer at him. He hopes he won't die of a crushed skull.

"Is this a trick from Jotunheim? They believe they can send a spy with the face of my _deceased_ brother into Asgard? I will not stand for this ridicule!"

Gungnir crackles with barely restrained energy when Odin glowers. The mass steps back feeling their king's power thrum angrily through the air.

"This is no trick, Thor. Loki was torn when he fell from Bifrost," he says, stepping down from the dais, "He is the only remaining piece of the second prince of Asgard."

**::O:O:O::**

He's not sure what to do.

Loki rubs his wrists and neck now that the chains are removed. He had thought he would be executed or imprisoned but instead he's free.

Somewhat.

It's overwhelming being in his old room. He walks through his chambers trying to drink in the sight of his old belongings. It's almost too much to bear as he stares at everything left untouched. He runs his fingers over the spines of his well-kept books before heading towards a window leading out into a balcony.

'_They are not mine_,' his mind whispers.

He tries to imagine what his other half, the twisted version of himself, was like in captivity. Was he vicious and full of insanity until his last breath? Was he still loved by his once family even after all his crimes?

Loki frowns when he thinks of his Asgardian family. He wonders about Frigga. She wasn't in the throne room and there haven't been any visits. He feels a memory of grief hook itself in his mind and he staggers. He shakes himself to pull himself away from the remaining feelings of the dead Loki. He struggles through the lingering ghost of memories from his other half only to bury them deep in his mind. He's on the floor shaking as he builds walls to separate everything. The barriers feel brittle and it tempts him to break them down. He's afraid he'll lose his mind if he strays too close to the memories of his other half.

**::O:O:O::**

"_Thor, do not let your love for your brother cloud your judgment."_

Thor paces in front of Loki's room in order for his anger to settle. He does not like the way his friends keep warning him about Loki. It bothers him to see their eyes fill with distrust and revulsion. This Loki is different. He knows there is goodness and redemption within this man.

"_Do not let your hatred for my brother cloud yours, Sif."_

He's not even sure if he can face Loki. Last time, Loki was dying in his arms asking for forgiveness and he was powerless to save him. Thor runs a hand through his braided hair wondering what he should do. He wishes his mother was still alive. She would know what to do and how to mend their broken family.

Thor straightens to give two loud knocks only pausing briefly feeling uncertain of whether or not he would be welcome. It's too late to run away because the door opens and Thor recoils slightly at the sight of red eyes. Loki looks away trying his best to blend in to the door.

"Loki, may I enter?"

He cringes at his words because that's not what he wanted to say. He wants to hug Loki and ask him if he's well and why he didn't return if he was alive and why his skin-

"-like some tea?"

Thor blinks as he steps inside, "Ah, no, thank you."

Thor wonders what he should say that won't dredge up old wounds. He pauses briefly when he passes the doorway leading to Loki's bed chambers. The bed is untouched. The thunder god frowns at the unkempt chaise when he enters the sitting room while Loki quickly tries to fold the blankets.

"Why do you sleep here?"

His words startle his brother. The barely there flinch is enough to claw his heart open.

"I am no longer accustomed to the finer ways of life," Loki smiles hesitantly, "It's just as well since I do not expect to be kept here. I trust that I'll be moved to the cells below eventually."

Something in Thor snarls at the suggestion of Loki behind bars.

"You will not be placed in the dungeon."

Loki's eyes widen in genuine shock. His mouth opens briefly but he decides to stay silent.

"Father has told me of your condition. He fears you would only be driven to the unthinkable should you be imprisoned."

Thor watches his brother fiddle with the blanket before he reaches over to pull it out of his grasp. It hurts because Loki doesn't deny that he wouldn't take his life. He feels sick when Loki's hand trembles under his because this is _fear_ and the last time Loki was afraid was right before he died.

"Loki, I cannot thank the Heaven's enough that you are alive. You may not be whole but you are still my brother. You are still family."

He feels no shame when tears streak down his face. He doesn't know how but he ends up grasping Loki while he sobs. He doesn't bother to worry if he'll be burned by his brother's skin because it doesn't matter. Loki stays tense in his arms but the shudder Thor feels through their embrace causes him to pull back. Thor watches in worry as his brother cries silently and tries to wipe away his tears in vain.

"Loki, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry…"

Loki bites his tongue to keep from saying, _'I'm not sorry, Thor.'_

**::O:O:O::**

Loki avoids Odin. It's not difficult since he's pretty sure Odin is avoiding him, too. Before, he would have been angry but now he resigned to whatever fate the All-Father bestows upon him. It's for the best, he thinks. He's not sure what he would do if the king decides to grace him with his presence.

Thor tries to take him outside in an effort to socialize with everyone but it doesn't work. His fear only causes Thor to be burned every time the thunder god tugs him towards the doors. He never leaves his self-imposed prison. It would mean his end if he were to leave the safety of his rooms with the amount of animosity the city holds against him.

Yet, he misses the sight of the universe that leads to Jimmy and Marcus. It's all he can focus on as the days turn to nights because he _needs_ to see them. The longing in his soul is too much that he hides among the shadows until he makes it to the Bifrost. Not once does he think to use his magic as he dashes out of the city.

It's dark and peaceful on the Rainbow Bridge. The raucous noise of Asgard is a murmur now that he's so far away. He sits on the edge, legs swinging, and humming to himself as he stares in the direction of the universe he wishes to see again.

He wishes things were different.

He wishes he wasn't bound to Asgard.

He wishes he could return home.

The sound of galloping horses draws his attention. Loki looks over and sees Thor and his merry band of followers approach. He's surprised it took Thor so long to realize he was missing.

"Loki, why are you here?"

Ah, anger. Loki feels it simmer deep within him. He continues to stare out into the sea of stars before him as he tries to keep calm.

"If you wished to leave your rooms I would-"

His anger arches up until the ice under his skin throbs to lash out. He takes a calming breath before speaking.

"Thor," he turns to smile, "I miss home."

"I could-"

"No," he whispers, "I miss the universe I was born from. I miss _my_ home."

Thor frowns, "But this is your home."

Loki pats the area beside him and waits for the thunder god to accept.

"Loki, this _is_ your home."

"Tell me," Loki murmurs, "Did you mourn?"

Thor recoils at the question almost slipping when he tries to sit beside him. He thinks one of the warriors behind them hisses.

"Forgive me, I don't mean to pry. I just find it difficult to believe I would be wanted here. I have seen the looks and heard the whispers. I am an abomination."

He raises a hand to keep Thor from shouting how he still loves and missed Loki.

"Asgard has no love for a trickster. Especially one who's magic is in tatters. The Loki I was before is gone and it pains me to say that this is no longer where I'm supposed to be."

"You can't," Thor grips his hand tightly, "I cannot lose you again. I will _not_ lose you again."

"Oh, Thor," Loki sighs, "I lost myself centuries ago."

**::O:O:O::**

Loki falls to his knees unsure if he should stand to fight back or submit.

"Not so cocky now, are you?"

He spits out a glob of blood, sneering at the speaker and his goons.

"We'll put you in your place. The king and the royal prince might not have the guts to do it but we do."

Loki draws himself inward to ignore the aches. The few shreds of magic he manages to curl around his fingers do very little to dampen the blows. He grins as each hit meets its mark and he cackles at his attackers.

"Was that meant to hurt?"

He can feel the walls in his mind waver. Each crack grows bigger as he snarls and taunts the warriors surrounding him.

"Is this the best you can do? Pathetic!"

He manages to drag his broken body out of the city. He collapses in the same place he sat with Thor a few weeks ago and he stares at the stars. The Bifrost is cold against his face but it's not enough to soothe his bruised skin. His breathing evens out as sleep tries to claim him. A hand wraps itself around him to lift him and he moans in pain. He had hoped no one would find him until after a few hours rest.

Loki whispers, "You should let me fall."

The gold eyes before him harden and the face of the dark skinned Asgardian turns into a scowl.

"No one would know," Loki giggles, "Do not deny your wish to see me dead. After all, you attacked me while I was king of Asgard. Why not try again? Hmm?"

Heimdall grunts when Loki shoves him away. The guardian tenses when he sees the trickster teeter dangerously near the edge of the bridge.

"I wonder, I wonder," Loki grins, "If my soul will be extinguished if I tear it again. Third times a charm!"

Loki throws his arms out, laughing, as he falls backwards.

**::O:O:O::**

There are voices somewhere nearby when he wakes. He's pulled from his dreams of Jim and Marcus with a groan. For a brief moment he thinks he's in his lumpy bed back home. His chest prickles and he wonders briefly if Marcus is in pain, too.

"My lord, his mind is deteriorating at an alarming rate," a voice says in a neutral tone, "The best we can do is make him comfortable until-"

"No!"

Loki almost rolls his eyes at Thor's shout. Honestly, the best outcome of whatever is happening to him would be death.

"I will not stand by and watch him die again."

Loki doesn't have the strength to snort and sleeps.

And sleeps.

And sleeps.

Thor visits Loki as much as possible. Every day the blue skin turns a little paler and Loki's breathing slows. It's worse, he thinks, so much worse than when he died in his arms. On the fourth day the bed is empty and the thunder god scrambles as he searches every room in his brothers chambers. He's about to send the guards to search the castle when Odin summons him.

"Father! Loki is missing!"

The All-Father sweeps by leaving Thor confused. He almost yells in anger because maybe Loki is right. Maybe Odin doesn't care.

"I have received word from Heimdall. Loki is on the Bifrost."

The thunder god nods and they both set out to find the trickster. A group of soldiers flank the All-Father and warriors three and Sif join them before they exit the city. They ride hard and fast because Loki might succeed if he attempts to throw himself off the edge, again.

In the distance they spot Loki pacing. As they draw nearer they hear him muttering to himself as he bites his fingers.

"Loki," Thor says as he approaches slowly. He pointedly ignores when several warriors draw their weapons. "Loki, do you hear me?"

Loki's eyes dart around and he mumbles nonsense around his bleeding fingers. Thor frowns when he sees bloody signs painted on the edge of the Bifrost.

"They need me need… I can feel it… need a door…"

Thor reaches out to pull Loki's arms down.

"Door… door… need a door…"

He frowns at the dazed and unseeing look in his brother's eyes.

"You are not well, brother. Let us return home."

Loki's eyes focus on him for a brief moment. His stained hands clench as he tilts his head in thought.

"Yes," the trickster whispers, "home..."

He slips out of Thor's grasp only to lunge forward. Thor reels back but is unable to avoid the red hand as it smears a bloody 'X' across his face. The thunder god stumbles trying to keep Loki in his hold when they whirl over to the painted symbols. Thor feels his skin burn and stretch as if he about to be ripped apart. He shouts in pain as a cold feeling washes through him before a roaring wind scalds his skin. He clutches Loki as they tumble painfully through space. Thor thinks he's being torn to pieces as light cascades around them.

Thor's yell is cut off as he crashes through branches. He yelps as bark whips his face and cuts into his skin. The landing is painful and he groans taking in the scenery. He blinks the daze out of his eyes, frowning when he sees he's surrounded by trees. A hand covered in dried blood appearing in front of his face causes him to blink in surprise. He follows the arm up until he sees Loki leaning forward to help him out of the crater he's in.

Thor winces when he's hauled up to stand on his own. He staggers for a moment before reaching down to make sure _Mjolnir_ is still clipped at his side. When he looks at Loki the other is scrubbing his face and arms until the blue skin and black hair flake away. He stares in shock at the blond curly hair and pale skin not knowing what to say.

"Finally, my mind is clearing," Loki sighs in relief before taking off, "Let's go."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters.

**A/N:** Back to Marcus!

un-beta'd

* * *

Something deep within Marcus tells him not to obey or trust. He defies orders at every turn regardless of the punishment. This feeling, this process, repeats itself countless times to the point where he enjoys the fights. Each challenge tears his limbs and breaks him but he doesn't stop. Not when he knows he'll be whole again by the following morning.

"I'm not yours to command."

There's something close to pleasure every time Krane's face twists in fury. It's amusing to see the skin turn bright red with anger and bionics go haywire at the loss of control. The way Krane's voice rises in pitch is laughable. Marcus' smile is all teeth when a gasket near Krane's collarbone blows sending him into another fit.

"I only obey my creator."

The android takes in the madman's moment of vulnerability. He debates on whether or not he should kill him. It would grant him his freedom along with Mr. Weber's, too. It would be easy to wring Krane's neck. He could apply enough pressure to asphyxiate him or just break his neck. Marcus tilts his head slightly thinking he could blind him, too. He would take special care with how he scoops out the altered eyes. The irises would probably be packed with hidden data. He could cut key areas of the body to leave the human powerless while he bleeds to death but that would be a waste.

The android grins because he wants to take Krane apart piece by piece.

A hit to the back of his head jars him out of his thoughts. Marcus falls forward, mouth already curling in a snarl and eyes turning green to attack. His eyes narrow as he watches S-3 and two others step towards Krane as if to shield the bionic man from him.

'_How sad'_, he thinks, '_protected by children_.'

Mr. Weber has told him repeatedly not to retaliate and he obeys. Krane is pitiful in his attempts to gain power and Marcus will enjoy the moment he ends the bionic man's life.

**::O:O:O::**

"You need to stop agitating him."

Marcus' rebellion is a product of his creator's emotions. Mr. Weber throws, more often than not, barbed words and blatant disrespect at Krane's face. Each word of criticism is met with bruised skin but the human is defiant regardless of the pain. So, Marcus chooses to be defiant as well. It's easy to mirror the words of his creator as each taunt passes his lips. He enjoys it because he's obeying his creator and it's familiar. It's familiar and yet alien.

"Marcus, are you listening?"

The android looks up from his corner of the small room. He watches the other work on a project with little interest while replaying the question in his mind.

"Sir, you know I'm not programmed to obey his commands. You could give him access."

"No."

Marcus frowns, "He will punish you."

"_No_," the human growls, "I'm not giving you to him."

Marcus blinks slowly, hands fisting as if unsure of what to say or do. He almost snaps that he's being stupid. There will only be one outcome in the end if this continues.

"The only reason he hasn't hit me with his mind voodoo is because he needs my mind clear and focused. The human brain deteriorates faster with his Triton App since we don't have a chip for him to control."

His creator turns back to the metal on the table in a huff. The android watches as several of the iron bars connect together and it starts to resemble a large satellite dish.

"I won't be me anymore if this thing gets turned on," Mr. Weber whispers, "You'll do everything in your power to override any command I give you when that happens. I'll be under Krane's influence so you've got no reason to obey me, ya hear?"

Marcus shifts uncomfortably under the hard glare.

"Yes, sir."

A feeling of dread claws at Marcus.

**::O:O:O::**

Marcus stumbles upon S-1 while patrolling the edges of the perimeter. The scowl on her face makes him tread carefully around her but he never turns his back on her. There's little doubt he can defeat her but he's not sure if she's alone this far from the base. There might be others watching from the trees or hidden in the brush, waiting. For a moment S-1 stares at him, eyes roving from head to toe as if evaluating.

"You know," she says conversationally, "Krane is going to kill your creator."

Marcus makes no outward reaction.

"It's not a secret he hates him. Probably hates him more than Douglas but that's up for debate. He's always going on and on about what he'll do to Jim and Douglas. Says he'll off them together."

Marcus' eyes slide sideways as he scans the perimeter again for anyone in the vicinity. When nothing appears on his radar he steps closer. S-1's face isn't happy. She's growling in anger and Marcus wonders why she seems upset at the thought of his creator and a stranger dying.

"He'll dismantle you. No matter how many times you pull yourself back together he'll take you apart over and over until nothing is left."

The android stops an arm's length away from her. S-1 is sneering as she speaks of Krane's plans to kill him and his creator that may or may not be true.

Marcus frowns, "Why are you telling me this?"

S-1 smirks, "Because you're going to help me get rid of him."

Marcus doesn't tell Mr. Weber about S-1. He keeps it to himself when asked if there were any threats. S-1 isn't a threat, not yet because this could be a trap, so he replies with a no.

Understanding dawns on the android a few days after the impromptu meeting with S-1. _The First Five_, his mind whispers when he walks around a group of bionic humans. S-1 is glowering because it's not her giving orders to the rest of her siblings. S-3 is the leader and it's clear with the way he speaks and preens under the other's gaze that Krane favors him over the others. Marcus briefly wonders why the bionic woman hasn't tried to reestablish her position in the hierarchy.

S-1 spots him at the edges of the crowd. Her eyes narrow and her lips thin. She stares pointedly at him before he manages to slip away into the small shack he shares with Mr. Weber.

It takes Marcus three hours to make his way back to the place where they first met. He checks and double checks and then triple checks to make sure no one follows. S-1 is already there by the time he reaches the familiar outcrop of trees. She's seething as she paces back and forth like a caged animal.

"He loves him," she cackles, "He calls him _father_ like it means something! He's an idiot if he thinks we mean anything to Krane! We're expendable! We're _nothing_!"

Marcus watches in silence as she continues her tirade. It goes on for some time but he doesn't interrupt her. When she quiets down she lets out a broken laugh that sends shivers through his frame.

"It's going to happen soon and when it does…"

Her arm snaps out, fist exploding through a boulder with one punch. A shower of dirt and rocks hit Marcus but he stands his ground. He almost flinches when her eyes meet his.

"You and I are going to make sure he stays down."

There's a coldness that makes him believe her.

**::O:O:O::**

They don't meet again when Krane moves everyone to a different location. The machine Mr. Weber took weeks to build is taken away. Afterwards, Marcus and his creator are kept firmly away from the others. The only light he sees nowadays are from the cracked window of the abandoned garage they're holed in. There's no furniture so Marcus does his best to huddle next to his creator to keep the human warm on cold nights.

While the change of scenery doesn't bother him, he worries for Mr. Weber. His creator is thinning and he's become less talkative. Marcus can't help but grimace at the sling keeping the man's broken arm in place. His mind wanders back to S-1's last words.

He spots her every now and then through the window. She never looks towards his direction but she does make hand signals telling him to wait. He wonders when he'll get the signal to start their revolt.

S-3 and several others show up in their prison a week later. They haul Mr. Weber to his feet and plan to take him away. Marcus grits his teeth because he's ready to start the uprising _now_.

"Stand down, Marcus."

The android lets his arms fall to his sides and his stance becomes loose. His creator shakes his head sadly as he disappears through the doorway.

**::O:O:O::**

Mr. Weber's eyes shimmer from the mind control. His words are short and clipped but Marcus does his best to pretend he's following his orders. If he doesn't show some form of obedience Krane will most likely melt him.

S-1 watches him carefully now that he's free to wander. Her fingers fold carefully when she signals him. Marcus turns away from her and responds,_ 'We wait.'_

**::O:O:O::**

S-1 sends a signal to lure the Davenports to the satellite. She had planned to take advantage of Krane's distraction and sneak up on him while he faced his enemies. It's unfortunate S-3 is able to trace the signal back to her. Marcus goes to her aid when she finally stops trying to stand. She's bleeding too much but her siblings are still angry.

Marcus fights back. The problem is there's too many of them and only one of him. Krane steps out of the crowd, eyes fierce when he stares down at Marcus.

"It seems you and Mr. Weber are no longer needed," he scoffs at S-1's direction, "Et tu, daughter?"

S-1 is barely conscious but she manages a grin, "Go to hell, Krane."

The bionic army whispers.

They want justice.

They want an execution.

Marcus struggles when they're lined up on their knees. S-1 leans heavily against him on his left and Mr. Weber sits in a slump on his right. Marcus closes his eyes when he hears the whir of energy building up behind him. He can feel the heat and static of several bionics accessing their ability to project energy. Somewhere in the background he thinks he hears the sound of helicopter blades and rumble of thunder in the distance but he's distracted by S-1.

She shifts up and whispers, "Now."


End file.
